


Start As You Mean To Go Wrong

by FascinationStreet



Series: 3 Times Klaus Put His Mouth To A Better Use [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Klaus In A Skirt, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Virgin Luther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FascinationStreet/pseuds/FascinationStreet
Summary: Klaus’s heels click loudly on the floor as he stalks over and drops himself in Luther’s lap, skirt settling over Klaus’ thighs where they straddle him.“Okay okay I get it, stealing is bad, but you still haven’t said if you like it or not.”Luther can smell whatever Allison washes her clothes in and a hint of her perfume, floral and sweet. It mixes with the smell of smoke that clings to Klaus like a second skin.





	Start As You Mean To Go Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of 3 
> 
> Luther is such a big dumb brick and I love him. 
> 
> Shout out to Rae, as per.

No matter what anyone says, Luther is not sulking. He’s not sulking, or brooding, or angsting or any other word for it. Leaders don’t brood; they think, they plan. That’s what Luther is doing, he tells himself. It might appear to anyone else that he’s hiding away from everyone in his room like an angry teenager, but it is absolutely one hundred percent Not That. 

He’s sitting in his chair, staring blankly up at the ceiling, because he’s trying to strategise. He is not thinking about Dad and Grace and the Moon and Diego always challenging his leadership, thank you very much. 

Whatever it is he calls it to himself, he still cringes a little when he hears the clicking of heels coming towards his room. It can only be one of two people, and it’s almost certainly not Grace. He clings to the hope that Allison is just going to go into her room and not try to talk to him about anything. He’s not in the mood for another conversation about what they’re going to do with Grace just yet. 

He hears the handle on his door rattle and he sighs inwardly, pulling himself up a little in his chair so that he looks more contemplative than moody. 

“There you are,” he hears, and whips his head towards the door in surprise.

“What are you sulking about now, oh leader my leader?” Klaus is leaning against the doorway, with his usual spacey grin. 

“I’m not s-,” Luther bristles, then cuts himself off as he takes in Klaus’ outfit, “have you been stealing Allison’s clothes again?” 

Klaus smiles, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. He executes a perfect spin, even while wearing intimidatingly high heels, so that the skirt he’s wearing flares out. It’s black and vaguely sparkly, settling just above Klaus’ knees when he stands still again. 

“Thank you for noticing. Doesn’t it look just wonderful on me, Luther?” 

It’s not the first time Luther has seen Klaus dressing up in Allison’s things, not even the first time this week, but usually he doesn’t make such an effort with it. This is the first time he’s really looked at him properly like this. The heels are high enough that Luther would worry about Klaus falling down the stairs again if he didn’t know that Klaus has been wearing them since he was a kid. The skirt is shorter than anything he’s seen Allison wear before, and Klaus’ legs look… indecently long and shapely in it. Luther swallows heavily.

“Take it off before she notices it’s missing, Klaus. Stop stealing her things,” he manages eventually. 

Klaus pouts. “Oh come on big guy, she has so much fancy stuff that she’ll never miss one little skirt, will she?”

“And the shoes?”

Klaus’s heels click loudly on the floor as he stalks over and drops himself in Luther’s lap, skirt settling over Klaus’ thighs where they straddle him. 

“Okay okay I get it, stealing is bad, but you still haven’t said if you like it or not.” 

Luther can smell whatever Allison washes her clothes in and a hint of her perfume, floral and sweet. It mixes with the smell of smoke that clings to Klaus like a second skin.

He’s not proud at what it does to him, the smell of Allison and the pressure in his lap, so close to the things he’s told himself he can never have. The fact that it’s Klaus strangely doesn’t detract from the slow burn of arousal spreading through his body. He’s already had to accept that there’s something fundamentally fucked up inside of him that makes him want the woman he calls his sister, and if he accepts that, being turned on by his brother wearing her clothes seems to go hand in hand with it. Klaus watches him, eyes dark and hooded. Luther feels suddenly trapped, he shouldn’t be enjoying this but here he is, resisting the urge to shift his hips away from Klaus’ weight, knowing one slight movement and Klaus will feel the fact that he’s starting to get hard. 

Maybe he gives it away in his face, or maybe Klaus somehow just knows, like he somehow always seems to know everything you don’t want him to.

“Oh,” he smiles, slow and sharp, eyes darkening further, “I guess you do like the skirt, hmm?”

Klaus settles his hands against Luther’s shoulders, his touch light but firm, and Luther watches him warily, hands gripping the arms of his chair. He hasn’t moved them since Klaus came into the room and now he doesn’t know what to do with them. He feels his eyes widen as Klaus grinds down into his lap against the hardness he finds there. Klaus’ grin is wicked, only getting bigger when Luther stutters out a breath. 

“I’ll let you into a little secret,” Klaus breathes eventually, his hips still rocking down into Luther’s.

Luther waits for whatever Klaus is about to tell him, but instead Klaus picks up his hand from where it’s still clutching the arm of the chair, peels off his glove, and guides it to his hip under the skirt. He drags it across his skin and the fabric there and Luther frowns, not understanding.

Then it hits him. He can feel lace under his fingers, thin and delicate. His brain whites out for a second.

He feels himself gaping like a fish as he struggles to comprehend. Klaus is wearing Allison’s underwear under the skirt. Klaus winks at him and he just cannot believe this is his life; his brother rubbing off against him wearing their sister’s clothes, and he’s fucking getting off on it. He wants to tell him to stop, that this is wrong, that he can’t do this, but he’s not strong enough to say any of those things, let alone to really mean them.

“Are you- did you steal her underwear as well?” It comes out breathier than he’d like, but getting it out at all is a small victory.

“Did I steal…” Klaus uses the hand still on Luther’s shoulder to push himself back and give Luther an offended look. “I’ll have you know these are mine, thank you!”

“I put them on especially and you just assume I stole them? Extremely rude, Luther, I’m hurt.” Klaus pouts at him, then circles his hips down viciously, the slight apparently already forgotten.

Luther is fully hard now and Klaus tips his head back, grinning.

“God, you’re so big. Do you get dizzy, losing all that blood from your brain?” He lets go of Luther’s hand on his hip to grab Luther’s dick through his pants. 

Luther hesitates, frowning as Klaus’ hands starts to massage him. He should have pushed him off his lap before now and told him to knock it off, to go bother someone else, but the thought of Allison had kept him rooted to the spot and his mind foggy. This has gone beyond Klaus’ usual jokes though, and Luther isn’t quite sure how far this is going to go. Klaus hasn’t stopped talking, taking no notice of Luther’s dilemma. 

“You ever scare a girl off with it? It’s gotta be pretty intimidating being eye to eye with Luther Jnr.” Klaus laughs, and cuts himself off when he looks at Luther’s face. Luther feels the heat in his cheeks and knows he’s given himself away for the second time in as many minutes.

“Oh my god, you’re not a virgin, surely? You’re telling me you’ve been depriving the female population of the chance to get dicked down by a boner-fide superhero?” He giggles at his own joke and Luther closes his eyes in exasperation. 

“Have you ever watched porn, do you even know where it goes? Didn’t dear old dad ever give you the talk about when a bird and a bee love each other very much?” 

“Klaus, shut the fuck up, would you?” Luther growls.

“No no it’s fine, don’t be embarrassed! I was scared my first time, but I learned a lot from Big Tony. He made sure I left prison with some skills, you know? He was so good to me.” Klaus’ hips move as he speaks, slight movements like he doesn’t know that he’s actually doing it. Luther’s other hand leaves the relative safety of the chair arm to grip Klaus’s hip. He feels soft skin under his fingers, exposed by his shirt riding up above the waist of his skirt. 

“He really lived up to his name,” Klaus sighs, fond and almost wistful, “I really miss the big lug sometimes.” 

Luther has never felt particularly charitable towards or fond of Klaus, and he doesn’t even know if Klaus is telling the truth or is just talking shit as usual. For some reason though, he feels a strange wave of anger at the thought of it, of Klaus being made into some asshole’s prison bitch, of Klaus not knowing better than to think he enjoyed it. His grip on Klaus tightens. There’ll likely be a shadow of his fingers on Klaus’ hips in the morning, a lingering sensation bruised under his skin, but Luther can’t bring himself to regret that somehow. Klaus will probably love them anyway, he thinks with a hint of bitterness. 

He brings Klaus out of his reverie when he squeezes his hips, and he grins down at him again. 

“I’d tell you I’ll be gentle but I’m not really into that so...” His grin turns slightly demented, and Luther watches with a mix of fascination and distant horror as Klaus nimbly pulls himself up out of his lap and sinks to his knees. 

Klaus wastes no time, shouldering apart Luther’s thighs and already starting to undo Luther’s pants to pull out his dick. 

“Oh my god, Luther, you could kill someone with that thing,” he whispers, his voice reverent and his eyes sparkling with an unnerving amount of joy. “Luckily for you I am a Being of quite considerable talents.”

Luther has never had enough of an awareness or inclination to compare his dick to anyone else; he’s always just assumed he was an average size and been perfectly okay with that. Klaus, on the other hand, is apparently well-versed in dick sizes and their respective merits, and is looking at Luther like a man who has been starved and is suddenly presented with an all you can eat buffet with no restrictions. 

“This is something I learned in prison,” he starts, fingers curled around Luther’s shaft and moving up and down in a very distracting way, “adapt and overcome, Luther. Survival of the fittest.” 

Luther doesn’t have the time to wonder what survival of the fittest has to do with sucking his dick before Klaus is doing exactly that. 

He watches as Klaus moves further and further down his dick, lips stretched indecently wide and eyes heavy. 

After that his mind goes blank, the wet heat and suction conspiring to make coherent thought an impossibility. His consciousness narrows to Klaus’ touch; his mouth, his hair ticking against his thighs when Klaus bottoms out, his hands holding Luther’s thighs for balance. 

He’s not a complete monk, he’s thoroughly explored the pleasures of his right hand and, when he’d been feeling adventurous, his left. This however is on a whole new scale of sensation. 

When he comes he barely has the mental capacity to be embarrassed at how quickly it happens. It’s probably the quickest he’s come since he first discovered what his dick was for, and it feels like a punch square to his gut. The wooden arms of the chair creak in his grip. 

Klaus pulls off, obviously swallowing, and catches the come escaping from the corner of his mouth with his finger and sucking it clean. Luther only just manages to suppress a noise at that. 

He looks disappointed almost, though Luther has no idea why. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m not flattered, Luther, but I really thought you’d be more of a challenge. A tougher nut to crack, if you will.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Sorry?” He tries, his brain still in the process of rebooting. 

Klaus hums vaguely, not looking away from where Luther’s dick is resting against his thigh, still shiny from Klaus’ spit. 

If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to explain it, but ever since Dad had given him the serum and changed his life - saved his life, he amends, even now not wanting to sound ungrateful - it’s taken him a while to go fully soft after getting off. He’d only really noticed it after he went to the moon and had much more time to pursue such pastimes, and he’d figured it just had something to do with the gravity there. It wasn’t something to worry about, it didn’t get in the way other than making it a bit awkward to get into his spacesuit sometimes. There wasn’t exactly anyone to have to hide it from up there anyway. 

Before Luther can come up with something appropriate to say - does he offer to return the favour? Offer Klaus the use of his lap to rub off on? - Klaus bends over a little and, horrifyingly, addresses Luther’s dick. 

“We’ll have to do this again sometime, little buddy. Nice meeting you.” He reaches out to touch his dick, and Luther has a terrible, awful vision of Klaus attempting a handshake with it in farewell. 

He never finds out what Klaus had intended, thankfully, because he stills at the first touch. 

“Oh,” he breathes, eyes drifting up to Luther’s. “Oh Luther, you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world, thank you.” 

If he thought Klaus was eager to suck his dick before, it has nothing on this. 

Klaus darts back in to take him back into his mouth, and Luther chokes on his breath as Klaus slides his lips all the way to the base. He feels the hardness of the roof of Klaus’ mouth give way to the softness of his throat as he takes him further and further. 

It’s torture. It’s bliss. It’s too much and not enough. It’s amazing. 

The obscene sounds of Klaus choking himself on Luther’s cock fill the room, enough that Luther feels his face flame. Klaus looks enraptured, pulling back only to breathe, and only when absolutely necessary. He looks like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in their childhood home with a dick down his throat. Different strokes and all that, he guesses.

Luther’s sense of time and purpose have been obliterated by the sheer rush of sensation, so he has no idea how long it’s been before Klaus pulls off and sways backwards, catching himself with his hands planted behind him on the floor. 

His chest is heaving, and even with his head thrown back he can see the blissed-out grin plastered across his face. His hips fuck up into the air, moaning breathily. 

“Did you just…” Luther starts, not entirely sure how to ask if Klaus has come just from a cock in his mouth. 

“Hands free, baby.” Klaus pants. 

Luther gulps. His dick is still softening, incapable of a repeat performance even with all of Klaus’ apparent skill, but it still sends a bolt of heat through him. 

How the fuck is his life so messed up. 

“That was amazing,” Klaus says, his breathing slowing already. “Thank you.” 

He picks himself up and Luther watches him wobble on his heels a little, his legs probably stiff from kneeling on the hard floor. He’s not exactly versed in post-coital etiquette, they never covered that in any of the lessons in the academy, but he’s pretty sure he should be the one saying thank you. 

Klaus, of course, wouldn’t have followed etiquette even if they had been taught it. He makes for the door. 

“Hey,” he turns back to Luther, somehow looking both wrecked with his shiny bruised red lips and composed with the lines of his skirt immaculate, “you want to fuck me? We could do it like they do on the Discovery Channel?” 

Luther freezes and Klaus winks, turning back towards the door without waiting for an answer. Apparently his reaction was satisfaction enough. 

“Whatever. If you change your mind I’ll be taking a bath.” 

Luther watches him close the door behind him, and he lets out a breath. What the fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to hit me up on twitter i have a twit for this account (@fascinationstrt) but i hardly ever use it. my main is @alm0stmedieval tho, come scream at me


End file.
